Moonlight Hill Watch ~ leadis farnex


Beginning to nod a bit now as I keep the moonlit watch
Looking out over the shades of darkness and shadow
Sweeping the green land down to rivulets running
And glinting in the distance.

Oddly funny-sad how in keeping with the old ways that be.
Some things one does from habit gained a ways ago
And not because there is need for it to be so any longer.

My toes are touching down into the hyphae that branch
Beneath the fairy caps and other fungi that dot this hill o'mine.
By this means alone, I may yet have some word of
Ever-rarer others

Far and farther.

Once they hook in their fingers or toes, ears or nose
They can sense me as well and we connect.
It's not like a conversation... like this one we be sharing now. ;)
'Tis more of a huge breath of release and the
Draught of lightning flash and thunder crack

Up and down real quick like.

Then we sit together, still, and share pulls on these
Ancient threads that have bound us across this mother
Forever.

It's a hard thing to let go of connections to
Begin a daylight foraging or be gone exploring the ruins
Where the bats come to congregate of late.

I ne'er know widder I shall feel the tug of
That one silver thread out of those yet left...again.
Once released some have gone and nev'r come back
Though it be the same moon shining down in the span.

Tis a mystery to me, and my greatest fear
Is that in the end there will only be me.

So more and more I pay attention to humans.
Will they go to the same unknowing  fate?
Or is there some special gift that be for them alone?

Do they know how to use the mycelium's hyphae
To commune with one another?
When I see Leslie look at me, she often has a light box
She clacks on to reach out, branching, into the world
of her fellows or the depths of her and my mind.

But I know
And I feel
That she understands the silvery heart strings
That soar through every material, not needing
Mushroom strands to reach me without

Delay.

(Moonlit Winter Landscape" by Remi van Haanen,
which can be found at this website!:
www.kistenet.com/brandon/Paintings.htm)

 

5 responses
Reading your words is like listening to Bop jazz. I soften my eyes and let my mind trip lightly over the writing. If I try to grasp and hold what I'm reading, I stop the flow - lose my step - and miss the connection. I don't know where I'm going when I follow you but I'm always glad to be there.
Then you and I have very similar experiences, both writing and reading this particular vein of ore. Or is it like that with most of what I write, in your experience? :) And thanks, lovely to have you along with me.
Can you recommend an artist you like in the Bop Jazz field?... not sure I know of it, though perhaps I'm writing this while listening to some. Anything's possible. Somewhere and *- time, i guess. Do you think that's true, about possibility? Wee!
John Coltrane is one of my favorites. Miles Davis, Art Blakey, Nat Adderley are some more. Trane's album, A Love Supreme, is one of my favorite albums ever. Dig deep and you'll mine gold. ;-)
Thanks for responding and encouraging me to dig. And: of course! that is one of the two branches of jazz of which I am aware. Never knew that Bop was its genre label. The other branch includes Frank Zappa. :) I know little else, but that there's much more to the subsections, I will have to check out your suggestion. I do have a singular appreciation for John Coltrane. Miles Davis in many cases too. :)
Here's the link to the first piece with this character which came to me as the visceral response to a writing assignment: http://morningambassador.posterous.com/leadis-farnex